


Family

by hyphabolic



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Cooking, Family, Food, Friendship, Gen, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyphabolic/pseuds/hyphabolic
Summary: Samol remembers life with the Hitchcocks.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Secret Samol 2019





	Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quecksilberlampe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quecksilberlampe/gifts).



> Pinch-hit for quecksilberlampe who asked for "Anything about the Hitchcocks living (with Samol) in the manor? Interaction or focused on someone in particular, directly after Marielda or ten years later - I'd love to see anything about it!"  
> I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope you like it!

Those boys had a lot of talking to do. But at first, there was a lot of silence too. Wasn't always easy at the start. Ethan had been with me a while, you know, before his brother showed up. We’d settled into a kind of routine in the house, cooked and talked and made music, but his mind was often elsewhere. His brothers betrayal weighed on him, and he didn’t know if he’d come, or what would happen when he did. Was the longest they’d ever been apart as well, and that didn’t make things easier either. So when Edmund arrived, there was relief, but there was also all that pent-up anger and disappointment.   
And Edmund, well, he was glad to see Ethan again, and contrite, to a point. Although he was sorry for having lied to Ethan, he maintained he’d had his reasons for acting the way he did, and that he’d had his brother’s best interests in mind. Well, I’ll spare you the details of their arguments, but believe me, I heard plenty of them over the first weeks.

It would sometimes remind me of my boys in their bad times. All stiff shoulders and cutting silences one day, heated arguments the next.   
They’d always tell you one of them was the better dancer and the other the better duellist, but truth be told, Ethan was as quick to lead as he was to follow, and Edmund was as good as parrying as anyone. 

But once they’d had it out, once and for all, Ethan forgave his brother. He didn’t approve of it, mind you, but he understood why he’d been left out. Can’t say I approved of it either, but it wasn’t the boy’s fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault really. Was just the way of things.

I remember one night, I was sitting in the kitchen playing a tune on this here guitar while they were fixing dinner. Now this was shortly after the mages had tried their thing, and failed. Took me a while to get used to playing the guitar with my shoulder like this, but I tried. 

We’d had other evenings far less pleasant. Evenings when my shoulder hurt too much to play, or the boys argued all through dinner, or would move through the kitchen in icy silence, not looking at each other, like in a carefully choreographed dance. Even when they were at odds, they were always connected, you know.

But that night the guitar and I were in harmony, and I was playing a song I’d written for my boy Samot when he was little. A melancholy tune for sure, but sweet and gentle. 

Edmund was chopping peppers while Ethan was browning the onions.   
“How’re those peppers coming along?” Ethan asked.   
“Here you go,” his brother said, handing him the peppers and taking the dough out from proving. Soon, the sweet smell of onions and garlic was wafting through the kitchen, mixing with earthy thyme and hot peppers. Nothing like cooking to make a house feel like a home, don’t you think?  
Edmund was kneading his dough while Ethan stood by the fire, stirring the pot. They didn’t say much, but it was a comfortable sort of silence.   
I kept plucking away at my guitar quietly, not paying them much mind, until I realised one of them was humming along. I looked up to see it was Edmund, humming absent-mindedly as he put the rolls in the oven. Ethan was stirring the pot with a little smile and a distant look on his face. After a while, he started whistling under his breath.  
Edmund glanced up in surprise but didn’t stop humming, just smiled. So I kept playing, and they kept humming and whistling, moving around each other and with each other in the kitchen. One would hold out the bowls without looking and the other one would take them and lay the table, not avoiding eye contact, but with the security of always knowing where their twin was.

We had a pleasant meal that night. Lots of talk and good food and laughter.  
After dinner, as they were washing up, Ethan began whistling softly again. Edmund put away the last bowl and turned to his brother: “Why don’t you get your clarinet, Ethan?” he said, “I haven’t heard you play in so long.”  
Then he looked at me and asked, "what was that song you were playing earlier?“ So while Ethan got his instrument ready, I taught Edmund the words to the song. He had a lovely singing voice, that boy did. And we sat there in the courtyard late into the night, making music.

Stopped reminding me of my boys’ arguments around then, and began reminding me of happier times with my family. Saw a lot of their mother in them, too. Quick-witted and energetic and kind like her. And when I’d watch them duel in the courtyard, crossing blades, moving forward and back, in a dance of attacking and parrying, it was sometimes like seeing their mother and my grandson playing in that same courtyard - with more grace and skill, to be sure, but with the same joy of movement and playful competition. And I felt the same joy of watching my grandson playing, that same fondness and proud familiarity. Some might say it’s not the same as family, but family can be a lot of things. And those boys became my family. Was nice to have them around. For a while, I even stopped waiting for the end.

They didn’t just stay here all the time, of course. They’d go out and travel. But they always came back. Stopped looking for adventure and found purpose in helping others. They helped a lot of people, those boys, helped build this community. Was nice to see how they stopped being house guests and made this place their home.

They mellowed with time, became less hotheaded and wary. After a while they stopped keeping their sabres by theirs bedsides and moved them next to the door. Some years later, they hung them over the fireplace and would only take them down to duel. There was less of that with the years though, as joints became stiffer and backs sore. We left them there, give the place a nice touch, don’t you think? This is where we’d sit on cool evenings, telling each other stories, or making music. Three old men sitting by the fire, enjoying each others’ company. Was a good time.   
Will you lay the table? Dinner’s almost ready.


End file.
